Not Okay
by GlassQueen
Summary: Anthony Edward Stark is not okay. Self harm tw.
1. Not Okay

Anthony Edward Stark was a fucking asshole and he knew it. He was the one who made himself that way. He'd never admit it to himself of course, but as long as the world hated him, he could keep hating himself. And the more he acted like the only thing he loved was himself, the more the world hated him, and the more it was okay he hated himself. Nobody could differentiate the self harm scars from scars from work accidents, and supervillains. It was such an easy sweet release, pure punishment and pain and it was all he wanted sometimes. Things got more difficult when the avengers moved in. He couldn't just wander around the tower drinking and cutting his arms. But he could sit in his penthouse, or his workshop, with the doors locked and Jarvis protocolled to keep everyone out, and just cry and cut and drink and go out hours later, pretending everything was fine. Pretending he loved himself, acting like the smug bastard everyone thought he was. And really, he was nothing besides what they thought of him, right? So the cycle of public shame and self hatred and egoistic actions continued even alongside the avengers.

Until Clint noticed one day. Noticed that some scars were too straight. Too thin. Too perfect. That some scars lined up with each other too well in pairs and sets. And he just had to fucking ask. He had to ask Tony. That stupid question he'd been avoiding his whole life.

"Are you okay Tony?"

Nobody was supposed to ask that. No one was supposed to care. They were supposed to think he was a stuck up dickwad who loved himself exclusively. Because Tony couldn't lie about this. It hurt too much to be dishonest. All he could do was answer with the truth.

"No. I'm a million miles from okay. I don't think I've ever been okay Clint, so you probably want to leave me alone now." Tony walked into his lab, closing the door and having Jarvis set up a lock down protocol, leaving a shocked Clint behind him in the hall. Anthony Edward Stark was not okay, and he never had been.


	2. Okay

"I'm really worried about Tony Natasha. He just straight up told me he isn't okay."

"He's probably seeking attention Clint, you shouldn't worry about him. He takes care of himself just fine." The lithe assassin looked at her partner pointedly, trying to get her point across.

"No it wasn't normal Tasha, there's something wrong with him. I mean, have you seen his scars?"

"Clint we all have scars, injuries are an occupational hazard."

"No, they're too straight and perfect. Like he put them there. I think he's hurting himself and nobody notices because who would think there's something wrong with Tony Stark? I mean he's not normal by any means but I still think someone needs to talk to him."

She sighed, "Well you and I are both terrible with real feelings, Steve would just antagonize him, maybe Bruce would work. If he doesn't hulk out when he finds out Tony may be hurting himself."

"Bruce it is. I guess I'll go talk to him when he gets back from his conference."

Tony's voice tangled into the room, "Talk to bruce about what Clint."

"Ah.." the archer hesitated and looked around for support from the now non-existent Black Widow. "I'm really worried about you Tony. Have you been.. Uh, hurting yourself? Cause it-"

"Yes." Silence filled the room for a minute. "Clint I told you I'll spill everything and you don't want to hear it.

The archer responded firmly, "Yes I do. You're family and I care about my family. So if you need to talk… talk already."

Tony looked at him incredulously. "You're serious aren't you. Shit. Shit." he teared up and angrily wiped his eyes, "Shit fucker I need a drink for this. Come to the bar if you want." He walked across the room to the bar, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. "Want anything?"

"Sure. Screwdriver, heavy on the vodka."

Tony grinned, "Now that I can do."

The men sat down at the bar with their drinks, and mulled over their thoughts in the silence, Clint waiting for Tony to speak, and Tony trying to think of where to start. Finally he spoke. "My dad sucked. He never abused me or anything. I always had what I needed. But I don't think he ever loved me. He was always tied up in work, it drove mom to drink, and then they died, so I've got daddy issues." he laughed hollowly "I guess that's what started it. The cutting. It made me feel like I was there even when he made me feel like I didn't exist. I think I was twelve. The older I got the more I did it you know, and drinking.. Well you just have to watch the news to see how that got. I tried to find myself y'know." he took a long drink of whiskey. "Never worked. Not with anything except science that is. Making shit. It helps too but I guess it's kind of like with alcohol, I got addicted to the feeling. Of being in pain. Fighting helps too but it's not the same. I mean… I guess that's kind of it right."

Clint was silent for a long time. "No. Why didn't you turn to any of us?"

He sighed. "I didn't want to burden you guys. You don't need to deal with my bullshit. It's my problem to deal with, not yours."

"You're wrong you know." Tony gave him a strange look. "Really. We're your family. Your problems are our problems just like our problems are yours. We're tied together now."

"I guess you want me to stop or some shit."

"Kinda. Or at least tell someone when you do it. Just so we know what's going on. Okay?"

"... Sure birdbrain."


End file.
